


Let Go

by Setaeru



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha Castiel, Alternate Universe, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood, Dark, Federal Bureau of Investigation | FBI, Graphic, M/M, Major and/or Minor Character Death, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Dean, Russian Mafia, Serial Killers, Slurs (Slander/Insults), Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-05-25 14:38:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6198940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setaeru/pseuds/Setaeru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was just the beginning.<br/>--<br/><em>“Who are you?”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>“Castiel.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I mean… what are you?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The man hummed, turning sharp, serious blue eyes to look at him. “I am an angel of the lord.”</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Notes:  
> -This was spur of the moment, like the rest of my shit  
> -This chapter (the prologue) was written months ago, the rest is fairly recent  
> -Updates are sporadic  
> -Tags will probably change (things will be added or subtracted, depending)  
> -Dean was born in 1988 (17 in 2005 - 27 in 2015)  
> -Castiel was born in 1980 (25 in 2005 - 35 in 2015)  
> Unbetaed, unread, forgive me and enjoy~ <3

**2005**

Dean tilted his head up to the sky, gaze blurry with unshed tears. He leaned back against the brick wall behind himself, body shaking forcefully. He swallowed a mouthful of saliva and grimaced at the bile stuck in his throat. He was terrible and disgusting and cruel. He was sick. Dean risked a look down, and felt his stomach turn violently at the sight of the bloody corpse lying pathetically beside his feet. He choked on a sob and slid down the wall, curling his bloody hands around his legs as if to protect himself for the corpse.

His gaze was drawn to the slice in the fabric of the dead man’s shirt. A slice that revealed a rough stab wound created by a thick, long piece of broken glass. Dean’s hand throbbed at the sight, and he turned his gaze away once more, hands beginning to tremble. He replayed the scene that had happened moments – minutes? – before. It had been self-defence, that was all… but he couldn’t… he couldn’t.

Dean choked on another sob, burying his face between his knees. He was a murderer. A fucking murderer. And it was only made worse by the fact Dean _liked_ the sight of the man’s blood. He _liked_ the sight of his dead corpse. He _liked_ the way the blood slowly pooled around the man, creating a thick puddle of deep red that looked almost black because of the moonlight.

“Hello?”

Dean froze, body tensing. He risked a look up, and felt raw fear claw at his insides when he spotted a dark figure in the distance. The figure moved closer, and Dean realized it was a man, about six feet tall. He probably should have realized that when he heard the voice; deep, gravelly, bored with a hint of curiosity.

“Hello? Are you alright?” It wasn’t genuine. The curiosity and the man in general, that is. Dean’s throat tightened. Was this man a friend of the dead one? Was he here to finish the job? Rape and kill Dean and throw him in a river somewhere only for him to be washed up on a bank a couple weeks later?

The man stepped up beside the corpse, less than a foot away from the rapist’s feet. His head turned to the dead man, but Dean couldn’t make out where he was looking, so he assumed he was just looking at the body. There was complete silence for several long, painful moments then Dean heard a sound that froze him to the core.

Laughter.

The man was laughing.

“Oh my,” the man said with a slight accent, sounding thoroughly amused. “It seems you killed him, omega.”

The only way he could have known Dean was an omega was if he smelled him and it wasn’t easy through the stench of blood and fear and God knows what else. A beta would never have picked up on it so fast. So the man was an alpha. Just his luck.

Dean slowly slid his arms away from his legs and turned his body to the side, slowly dragging his body backwards and away from the man. His hand brushed against the bloody piece of glass he had used to kill the other man, and he grabbed it up, wincing as the sharp edge pressed into a deep cut the glass had given him earlier. Dean scrambled to his feet unceremoniously, his heart pounding in his ears as he lifted his arms and held the makeshift blade out in defense.

“Calm down, omega,” the alpha huffed in amusement. He slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small rectangle. A flip phone, Dean realized. The screen lit up with a dull light and revealed the man’s face.

A dark stubble covered jaw, dark blue eyes and unruly dark hair. He had a straight nose and thin, pale pink lips and a strong jawline and defined cheekbones. Dean’s hand shook, and he nearly lost his grip on the glass, his blood slippery hand unable to hold it properly.

The man clicked a few buttons then held the phone up to his ear. A few seconds later, he spoke. “I need a cleanup crew to come to the alley on Spencer and Riverside.” There was a pause. “There’s only one alley, you fucking idiot.” Just Dean’s fucking luck that this man was a police officer, or maybe… not? The alpha lowered the phone and hung up, slipping it back into his pocket. He turned on his heel and began walking away; he paused a few feet away and tilted his head back to look over his shoulder. “Coming, little omega?”

Dean swallowed but slowly walked towards him, not seeing any other option. The end of the alley was blocked off by a huge brick wall and there were no other escape route that Dean knew about. He tried to walk a few feet behind the man, but it was hard when the alpha kept stopping and waiting for him to get closer.

“I don’t bite, puppy,” the man chuckled. “Well, unless you want me to, that is.”

“I don’t,” Dean snapped, flinching and panicking immediately. Shit, why the fuck did he have to go and open his mouth? What a fucking idiot!

“How cute,” the alpha laughed again. “Come on, then.” Dean clenched his jaw and edged closer, trying to prove that he wasn’t afraid of the man even though he stunk of fear. The alpha turned to the right and didn’t move, eyeing the dead road for something. A car, probably.

Dean stepped up beside him, glass still clenched tightly in his hand. The cut was getting deeper, he knew, but he didn’t care if it meant he could hold on to the only thing that could save him if this man tried anything. The alpha glanced at him and then down at his hand and smirked.

“Are you going to stab me, omega?” He asked just as a big van and two black sedan’s turned the corner and came to a stop on the curb beside them.

“S-screw you,” Dean snarled, looking at the men that climbed out of the vehicles with a new fear. God, he was so screwed. Most of them wore suits, but some wore jeans and shirts like the alpha Dean stood next to. And Dean could see gun holsters on all of them.

“Would you like to screw me, puppy?” The alpha purred teasingly, stepping closer.

Dean swung his arm towards him with a cry of, “Don’t touch me!” then quickly stumbled backwards until his back slammed into a wall. He felt a tear slide down his cheek and swallowed a whimper at the man’s narrowed, sharp gaze.

“You almost hurt me, pup.”

_I’m sorry,_ was the immediate response, but he managed to keep his mouth shut. He wasn’t going to apologize to the man.

“Your reaction was too severe, your scent is full of fear,” the alpha continued, cautiously moving closer. “Did that man try and rape you? Is that why you killed him?”

“Fuck you,” _It’s none of your business!_ He felt another tear slide down his cheek and mentally slapped himself. He was being so pathetic. But it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t. But he shouldn't be crying.

The alpha made a disapproving noise and stopped trying to approach him, instead turning to the men that stood by the vehicles patiently. “Clean up the mess in that alley, thoroughly. I don’t want one little bit of incriminating evidence left.”

“Yes, sir.” The men immediately began to move towards them, but made a point of not moving in front of the alpha or Dean, instead walking behind the alpha even if the space between the man and the wall was small.

“Castiel,” one burly man in jeans said with a deep southern drawl, stepping close to the alpha Dean could now identify as Castiel. “A car’s comin’ to take you and the omega home.”

Castiel nodded. “Yes, thank you, Benny.” Benny glanced at him then turned and walked back to one of the sedans. Dean turned to look into the alley, and immediately regretted it. He slapped a hand on his mouth, eyes widening as he watched the men carry the rapist’s bloody corpse out of the alley. Castiel cleared his throat and stepped out of the way, turning to the body with a lazy glance. He turned back to Dean, “You can either come with me willingly or unwillingly. The former would be a better idea.”

Dean didn’t see much of a choice.

When the car came, the men were already half way done cleaning up the mess in the alley. Dean climbed in after Castiel, still clutching the piece of glass. He turned to the man at his side, swallowing in an attempt to clear his throat before saying, “Who are you?”

“Castiel.”

“I mean… what are you?”

The man hummed, turning sharp, serious blue eyes to look at him. “I am an angel of the lord.”

Dean blinked.

Castiel blinked.

Dean frowned.

Castiel’s face melted into a small smile and an amused sparkle appeared in his eyes. “I’ll tell you if you tell me your full name.”

Dean pressed himself back against the door, he shook his head furiously. No, no way was he telling this creep his name.

“Suit yourself. I have plenty of time,” Castiel looked away, still smiling. “You, on the other hand, have ten minutes to tell me your name.”

“Or?”

“I beat it out of you.”

“W-“ Dean swallowed and wondered if he should be stubborn about it. It didn’t seem like a good idea. “Dean.”

“Dean…”

“Winchester.”

“Hello, Dean Winchester,” Castiel turned back to him, grinning viciously. “My name is Castiel Losev and I’m an Avtoritet for the Losev Bratva.”

Cleanup crew. Police officers didn't call for a cleanup crew, they called for backup and ambulances. Holy fucking Christ, Dean, what now? “And you’re not letting me go are you?” Dean felt dejection course through him.

Castiel grinned, pleased. “You're a smart puppy, aren't you?” He cooed. “I like you.” Castiel leaned closer, licking his lips. “We’ll have to see about letting you go though.”

“Are you gonna kill me?”

“No, Dean,” Castiel hummed, eyes sparkling and teeth showing. “I’m going to recreate you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> -Avtoritet: Authority; leader of a small group of men.
> 
> *The rest of the chapters should be _a little_ longer than this. :)
> 
> Hope you liked that. Comments and kudos are welcomed and appreciated.


	2. So Long, Partner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't get used to updates.
> 
> Unbetaed, unread, forgive me and enjoy~ <3

**2015**

Dean cautiously moved through the doors, pointing his gun in every direction and making sure no one was waiting there for him with a gun. He lowered his weapon as Gordon came in after him, locking eyes with his partner and nodding. Together they walked towards the next set of doors, covering each other. They stepped up on either side of the double doors, locking eyes and checking down the halls once more. Dean peaked into the small window in the middle of the door, trying to see anything inside.

Nothing.

Dean nodded at Gordon and mouthed a countdown from three. Together they stormed through the doors once he reached one, pointing their guns around and looking for threats. Dean squinted at a shadow towards the back of the room, frowning thoughtfully. It wasn’t a human but it was something. He glanced at Gordon and gestured his head in the direction of the shadow, watching him look over. Gordon nodded and slowly approached, Dean lingering behind and making sure no one came up behind them.

“Shit,” Gordon said, standing at the end of the hall. He stared at something on the floor; hidden by a wall Dean couldn’t look past. Dean looked around again then quickly walked over; keeping his front pointed to the rest of the place along with his gun. He glanced to the side and looked at the floor, pressing his lips together and swallowing down bile.

The shadow had been a thick pole but… A young child lay on the floor, missing their head and naked. There was dirt caked on their skin, along with thick and messy patches of blood. Dean looked in front of himself again then knelt beside the child, glancing down their body and trying to see if he could find any glaring clues. The child was male and appeared to have been anally penetrated before their death, or maybe moments after. Cause of death was clearly related to the lack of a head, or maybe it was the deep stab wound in the stomach. He wasn’t sure.

Dean looked at Gordon, feeling a rush of anger and disgust. Who could do this to a _child_? A helpless child that had most likely done nothing to deserve it. Even he had never hurt a child before. Gordon nodded and started walking back towards the doors. “Let’s go,” he said quietly. “We need to finish our search. We can call a team after we’ve made sure this building is clear.”

“Fine,” Dean stood and looked at the boy one last time. He shook his head, forcing his eyes away, and walked after Gordon. He listened to any signs of life, finding none. Gordon went out the doors first, Dean trailing after him and covering him. They went back out all the doors they just came through, heading for the main section of the building. They quickly checked the rest of the place, finding another body, an adult female this time, as bloody as the child had been except she had her head.

“I’m calling this in,” Gordon said, pulling his phone out. He frowned at the device. “No service. Let’s head outside.”

“You go,” Dean stared at the woman, unable to not feel like something was wrong with her. “I’ll stay here.”

“Come on, Dean,” Gordon snorted. “We’ve watched enough horror movies to know how that one goes.”

“Oh, shut up,” Dean sighed, maybe a little disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to inspect her further for the moment, and started towards the doors. “Let’s just go. I’ll call Ash and get him to pull up any videos in the area.”

“Good idea,” Gordon said as they stepped outside. He dialed the station and stepped to the side as he started speaking. Dean looked back at the warehouse, intimidating and dark in the night. He pulled his phone out, speed dialing Ash, their computer analyst, holding the phone to his ear. Dean looked around the area, still holding his gun in his right hand, trying to check for anyone in the area.

The warehouse was abandoned but it had been suspicious enough with the fully functional lights that were turned on and left one. He couldn’t be sure that they were alone, and he didn’t like that. Normally, Dean was easily able to tell if someone was watching him or if anyone was around him, but right now, he couldn’t even tell that Gordon was hovering close to his right and chattering with someone on the phone. It was weird.

“Dean,” Gordon hung up. “I need to get my taser from the car.” Dean forced himself to remain neutral, just frowning slightly and tilting his head. Gordon had his taser on him; he knew that for sure because he’d told him to make sure it was in his pocket just before they’d left the car and come here.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, hanging up because Ash hadn’t answered and it was still ringing. “Let’s go get it. I might’ve left mine there too.” Someone was here. Someone was watching them and Dean forced himself not to look around and find them, not to scare them off or worse, make them angry and violent.

Gordon was a calm presence at his side, hovering close enough that their arms brushed while they walked down to the car. Gordon was turned to look at him, saying something about a football game’s scores as an excuse to look at him and speak, as an excuse to be able to look behind Dean with his peripheral vision and on Dean’s left side. Dean looked at Gordon as the man spoke as well, laughing when Gordon said something about one of the stars getting tackled by a streaking man just before halftime.

Dean saw something move in the forest on Gordon’s right, and locked eyes with his friend, silently telling him this. Gordon quieted down and turned to look away from him, staring straight ahead. They got to Gordon’s car, a simple black police issued vehicle, and opened the two front doors, sliding inside and shutting them. Dean turned to look at Gordon, digging around by the cup holders and glancing in the backseat to check if someone had crawled in when they had left and was waiting for them.

No one was there.

Dean heard police sirens in the background, and turned to look at Gordon again, relaxing back in his chair. Gordon shot him a smile, his gun resting on his thigh. His partner looked out the front window, gaze searching the area for the shadow that had followed them. The sirens got louder and louder, blue and red lights flashing in the background as they approached. Dean looked at Gordon, holding his gun tight in his hand as the man opened his mouth.

“Duck-” Dean lowered his abdomen to his legs immediately, wincing as a shot rang out and the glass from his window shattered, the unmistakable sound of a bullet colliding with bone ringing in his ears. Dean looked at Gordon, eyes widening with horror when he saw the dull eyes and blood pouring from the bullet that had penetrated his skull.

Dean sat up and lifted his gun, shooting blindly through his window and into the dark of the night. No one shot back at him, but he did hear a lot of rustling from trees and fallen branches cracking. Dean slipped out of the car and pulled his flashlight from his pants, flicking it on and flashing it around everywhere, trying to pinpoint the exact location of the escaping murderer.

Police cruisers screeched to a stop behind him, uniformed men slipping out with their guns. “He ran off into the forest,” Dean said, stepping away from the car. A shot rang out, penetrating the back passenger door of his car. He jerked back behind his car door, looking out into the night as the police ducked behind their doors and shot blindly into the forest, trying to aim at the place the bullet had come from.

“Swat is on their way,” one of the men said, his flashlight flicking over the forest, his body hidden behind his car door. “We should wait for them.”

“Hell no,” Dean snapped. “This bastard shot my fucking partner through my window. Let’s go,” he unloaded his empty clip, shoving in another magazine. He pointed his flashlight in the direction the bullet came from and fired off one shot, stepping away from his car door and slowly stalking towards the man.

It was a stupid move, but one that he needed to do. He ducked behind a tree, still in the clear line of sight of the police, but hidden from the shooter. He saw a shadow and fired off another shot, listening as a pained cry floated through the air when his bullet made contact with the person’s body. Dean shot again, earning another cry, and quickly advanced on the person, light shining towards them.

Two uniformed men appeared behind him, guns pointed down at the person on the floor. Dean stared though, lowering his weapon. He moved the fallen gun away from the woman, kicking it behind him. She was alive and twitching with pain, a terrified look on her face. “Son of a bitch,” Dean said, clenching his jaw tightly. It was the woman from inside the warehouse, and she was still naked and covered in dried blood, and fresh blood. Dean clenched his jaw, pressing his foot down on the bullet wound on the woman’s stomach. “You killed my partner.” He pointed the gun at her head.

“I’m sorry-“ she said quickly, wincing at the extra pain he inflicted upon her with his boot. “Please.”

“Cuff her,” Dean snapped, shoving his weapon into his hip holster before he did something stupid like shoot her in the head. One of the officers put his weapon away and pulled out cuffs, forcing the woman onto his front and quickly cuffing her wrists together behind her back.

The man jerked her up, pushing her roughly towards their cars. The second officer followed behind him, putting away her weapon before grabbing the woman’s arm and walking with them. Dean breathed deeply, closing his eyes for a moment. He opened them and turned, stalking back to Gordon’s car and staring at the man through the open passenger door. He hadn’t moved from his earlier position.

Dean tensed as a hand touched his arm, turning his head and looking at Jo Harvelle, his friend and fellow agent. “I’m sorry, Dean,” Jo said, pulling him away from the car with a pained grimace. She probably didn't actually care even though Gordon had been on their team. No one had truly liked the bastard. He was annoying as fuck, but he was also useful. “Let’s get you checked over then we can talk,” she gestured her head to the ambulance that had just arrived.

“There’s a boy inside,” Dean said, looking back at the looming warehouse, glancing towards the east as a strike of light started to appear. It was already dawn. “Eastern side, right at the back, behind the wall.”

“I’ll send some agents in,” Jo said, pushing him to sit down on the edge of the back of the ambulance. “Just let this lady look you over, okay?”

Dean nodded, looking at the paramedic that smiled politely at him and started fiddling around with supplies. He sighed and watched Jo walk away and mutter softly with some police and agents. It was going to be a long morning, he could already tell. He really wished Gordon hadn’t talked him into checking out the anonymous tip about some murderer they’d been tracking without swat or their team, really wished he hadn’t been dragged out of bed by his alarm clock after the sun had set too.

* * *

By the time Dean got home, it was nearly five in the afternoon and he’d been questioned about a million times about the tip, why they didn't get backup, entering the warehouse, Gordon’s death, and shooting the woman. They wanted to know everything that had happened between the time the call came in and when Jo had shown up at the scene.

Dean set his gun down on his nightstand, carelessly stripping his clothes and tossing them to the floor, and crawling under his cool sheets. He was exhausted and thanked God that he didn’t have to go into work tomorrow.

* * *

Dean woke up sometime around four in the morning, crawling out of bed and stumbling to the bathroom to pee. He washed his hands and splashed water on his face, looking at himself in the mirror and frowning. He looked like shit. Felt like it too… smelt like it as well.

He winced and stepped to the shower, turning the water on and making sure it was warm before stepping inside. He washed his hair with shampoo and rubbed conditioner in it, letting it sit while he scrubbed his body thoroughly with some nice smelling Axe body gel and a loofa ball.

He rinsed his hair of the conditioner and cleaned his body of soap, turning the water off and stepping out of the shower. He dripped water onto the floor as he opened the sink cabinet and pulled out a towel, ruffling his wet hair with it before wiping off his body. He rubbed his hair a little more, drying it as much as he could, then dropped the towel to the floor and cleaned up the mess of water.

Dean tossed the towel into the hamper and walked into his room, shivering at the cold air. He tugged on a pair of boxers and black sweat pants, along with his favorite Zeppelin shirt. He left his room and headed downstairs and walked into his kitchen, debating between making an egg and toast and just grabbing a bowl of cereal.

Cereal was better.

He grabbed a bowl and a box of Fruit Loops, pouring a healthy amount out and dousing it with milk. He put the milk in the fridge and the cereal in the cupboard again, finding a spoon and plopping down on a chair at the island, shoveling bites of cereal into his mouth.

Dean’s phone rang from upstairs and he groaned, looking at the clock on the stove and frowning. It was barely five in the morning, who the fuck was calling him on his day off? He ignored the phone and finished eating, washing his bowl and drying it before putting it in the cupboard again.

He stalked up the stairs to his room, digging his phone from his pants and unlocking it. He had one missed call and text from Jo.

He opened the text, squinting at the blurry, backwards letters. He focused and read it out loud slowly, “Learn to answer your phone. Got a new partner for you. Bobby’s calling soon.” That was fast; he frowned, sitting on his bed. It was barely a day since Gordon’s death – hell, they hadn’t even buried the man yet - and they already had a new partner for him?

Dean didn’t reply to her, instead locking his phone and walking downstairs. He set the phone down on the table and plopped down on the couch in his family room. Dean turned the television on and taking the blanket from the couch, dropping it over his legs. He flipped through the channels until he found an old re-run of a well-loved, guilty pleasure of his.

Gossip Girl.

It was embarrassing how much he loved that show and its relatively stupid romance and drama. Although it was still better than his worse and totally unhealthy love for Dr. Sexy MD. Dean watched as his crush, Chuck Bass, flirted with a girl in a bar. It wasn’t anything unusual for Chuck, considering he was a huge playboy with commitment issues.

Dean spent the rest of the day watching Gossip Girl and forgetting about the rest of his life. Dreading tomorrow the closer and closer it got, especially since he would have to get up at five in the morning and be at work by six-thirty. His life sucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked that. Comments and kudos are welcomed and appreciated.


	3. Welcome To The Team

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiiiiiii! :)
> 
> Unbetaed, unread, forgive me and enjoy~ <3

Dean crawled out of bed the next day, showering before putting on some jeans and a casual blue button up, along with his favorite leather jacket. He attached his gun and made sure he had his wallet, keys and phone before leaving the house. He slid into his beautiful black ’67 Impala and opened the garage door with his remote, turning the car on and letting it idle for a minute before backing onto his driveway and shutting the door with the same remote. Dean drove to work in the casual morning rush, listening to Led Zeppelin II.

He pulled into the underground parking garage, getting out of his car and taking the elevator up to the ninth floor. Jo was already at her cubicle, and Ash was making himself some coffee in the little kitchen they had, Garth was playing with his phone at his desk, and Bobby and Victor were already in their offices on the elevated floor.

This was his team, minus one recently killed member named Gordon Walker. He sighed and walked up the elevated ramp floor to Bobby’s office, knocking on the door and opening it when a gruff voice said he could. He stepped inside and shut the door, sitting down at one of the two chairs in front of Bobby’s desk.

“Heard you got a new partner for me,” Dean said, staring at Bobby with a frown.

“They sent him in immediately from Quantico once they heard about Gordon’s death,” Bobby said, shrugging. “He’s former black-ops and has a hell of a lot of people telling me he’s the best.”

“Why are they sending a guy from Quantico here? It’s _Pontiac_ , for God’s sake,” Dean sat forward, elbows on his knees. “Unless he did some dirty shit that they can’t take him down for, he’s got no reason to be out in this dump. _From Quantico,_ ” Dean snorted. “That’s where the best of the best are sent and bred.”

“You’re telling me,” Bobby huffed. “His name is Benny Lafitte and he checks out on all areas. He’s a nice guy from down south.”

_Oh. Benny._ “Texas?”

“Louisiana,” Bobby corrected, scratching his beard. He glanced out his small window and sighed. “Come on. He’s here. And Jo looks like she’s ready to interrogate him.”

Dean stood and followed Bobby out of the room, eyeing the burly man standing by the main doors to the room. Jo was glaring at him, lips pressed thin and eyes face expressing her suspicion of him. He smirked and saw Victor step out of his office from the corner of his eye, he nodded his head in greeting towards the man, earning a nod in return.

“Mr. Lafitte,” Bobby said, holding his hand out and shaking Benny’s. “Nice to have you here.”

“Call me Benny, Mr. Singer,” the man said in reply, smiling at him warmly.

“Bobby, then.”

“Of course,” Benny turned to him then. “Nice to meet you…?”

“Dean,” he said, shaking the man’s hand. “Dean Winchester.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Dean Winchester,” Benny’s nose twitched, and his gaze dropped to look Dean over, eyes taking in the weapon at his hip before returning to his face. “I hear you’re my new partner.” His eyes sparkled.

“We’ll be working closely together but you’re not just my partner,” Dean said, gesturing to the rest of his team while shooting Benny a warning look that made the man straighten. “We’re all partners here. Sometimes we split into pairs for the job, but in the end, we’re all working together and we’re all one.”

“I see,” Benny nodded seriously. “And what are the names of the rest of our team?”

“Jo Harvelle,” Jo piped up. Dean looked back at her and barely held in a smile at the crossed arms and spread feet, her eyes dark. “That’s Ash and Garth. Victor is over there by the railings.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder at where Victor stood with his forearms on the edge of the side railings of the elevated floor.

“Nice to meet you, Benny. Garth Fitzgerald IV,” Garth said enthusiastically, grinning widely and standing. He walked over and shook Benny’s hand, his other clapping the man on the shoulder. “I hope we can be good friends.”

“Sure, Garth,” Benny said, nodding with a polite smile. They all turned to look at Ash who was casually sipping his coffee, looking all kinds of at ease with his body, but his eyes said something else. Benny tensed and returned whatever stare Ash was directing at him right back. “Ash, huh? Got a last name?”

“None that you need to know… Mr. Lafitte,” Ash drawled, tilting his head back and setting his mug down. Benny and Ash stared at each other with unwavering gazes, scrutinizing the other. Ash raised a brow, a daring look on his face.

"Alright," Bobby muttered, rolling his eyes slightly. "Enough. Let's get to work." Benny shot Dean a smirk, amused at Bobby words apparently, and turned away from Ash completely. Ash picked up his coffee cup and sipped from it as he walked past cubicles to the back of the room where their briefing room was. Dean sighed and locked eyes with Benny, gesturing his head towards the room before turning and walking in that direction, listening to Benny follow after him with Bobby and Jo and Garth. Time for another boring case meeting.

* * *

Dean got home around eight at night, his head pounding and his shoulders aching with tense muscles from writing hunched over all day. He sat down in his kitchen, resting his chin on his hands and just stared at his stove, watching the crisp blue light that showed the time. He wanted to make something to eat but at the same time he was lazy and he didn't feel up to it... but he was hungry.

Dean yawned, lazily covering his mouth as he did, and slowly stood, shuffling over to one of his drawers and opening it, pulling out a bunch of takeout menus. He blinked hazily at them, tossing the ones he didn't feel like back into the drawer. He settled on pizza and called up the restaurant, placing an order for a plain cheese pizza for delivery. He hung up after placing his order and tossed the last few menus back in the drawer, shutting it and shuffling into the family room.

He pulled off his gun holster and removed his wallet and keys, setting everything on the coffee table before his couch with his phone. Dean plopped down and stretched his arms above his head, yawning again. He was thirsty for a beer but that could wait until the pizza arrived, for now, he would sit and watch TV. He heard a shuffle from behind the door and froze, staring blankly at the TV and wondering if he should make a quick grab for his gun or slowly, casually move to stand.

Dean sniffed and stood, stretching and groaning loudly, watching the doorway. No one entered. He grabbed his gun and cocked it, slowly walking forward. He checked the section of hall he could see and then pressed his body against the wall, checking the side he didn't hear the creak from. So far, clear. Dean moved one foot forward and then put all his weight on it, spinning as he held his gun up, pointing it down the hall.

He blinked.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Benny?" he asked, glaring at the man. Benny grinned at him and leaning his shoulder against the wall.

"Just came to check on you," he said easily, shrugging his free shoulder. "I heard you order pizza. Mind if I join ya?"

Dean rolled his eyes, lowering his gun and uncocking it. "Next time, Benny, just knock on the door," he muttered, walking back into the family room and shoving his gun into the holster. He set it back on the table and dropped down on the couch, kicking his feet up onto the table.

Benny huffed and walked over, plopping down next to him and looking at the TV. "Family Feud? Really?"

"Shut up. It's the only thing on right now."

Benny hummed, bouncing his leg. "Anyone else here?" Benny asked casually, looking around the room before locking eyes with him. Dean frowned at him, trying to read his face and getting nothing.

"No," he said eventually. "Just us." He swallowed and looked back at the TV, lowering his feet from the table. Benny hummed and slouched down, digging his hand into his pocket and pulling out his phone. He tapped out a message quickly, exiting the app and pocketing his phone before Dean could even read it properly. "Pizza's gonna be about twenty more minutes," he said, scratching the side of his head a little awkwardly.

"Hope there's enough for all of us," Benny said, flashing him a smile but never taking his eyes off the television screen.

"All of us?"

"All of us," a gravelly voice drawled from the doorway. Dean snapped his eyes over, disbelieving, and swallowed hard.

"Cas," he whispered thickly, eyes wide as he sat forward. "What-" he glanced at Benny then back at Castiel. "What are you doing here?"

"I can't drop by and see my favorite omega?" Castiel smiled but didn't look at him, instead inspecting the room with a critical gaze. Dean stood slowly and shuffled his feet, looking around and wincing slightly when he noticed the dust. It was one thing for Benny to see his shitty house but Castiel? Hell no. He didn't want to somehow disappoint him. "Would you excuse us, Benny? Wait in the car."

"Sure," Benny stood and winked at Dean, turning and walking out of the room. He poked his head back in the room, leaning from behind the wall. "I'll take care of the pizza bill." And then he disappeared before Dean could even try to argue with him. Fucker. He could take care of his own pizza bill.

"So," Castiel pressed his lips together, walking closer so he could stand within a foot of Dean, facing him completely and staring at him with an intense blue stare. "How are you?"

"Uh," Dean looked down at his feet. "Uh, good. Great. Yeah. You?"

"I'm well," Castiel sighed and turned, sitting down slowly and clearing his throat. "Sit." Dean dropped down to the couch so fast he bounced a little, and then he grimaced when he realized it. Castiel didn't say anything, just tilting his head back and resting it on the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling. "It's been a while, huh?"

"While," he repeated softly. "Seven months."

"Seven months," Castiel chuckled hollowly. "I hate deep cover jobs. Don't you?"

"Kind of my official job now, isn't it?" Dean said, sitting painfully straight and trying not to lean back too much.

"Yes, I suppose," Castiel muttered.

"So you're done? You got Larese?"

"Yes," Castiel turned his head, eyeing him. "Tortured, used and killed. He should be six feet under by now. Are you making any progress with finding out who betrayed us?"

"No, uh," Dean stared at his lap. "Not really. Is... is that why you sent Benny here?"

"Are you questioning me?"

"What? No," he swallowed his panic. "I was- I was just wondering."

Castiel made a noise. "Partly why. The rest is classified."

"Seriously?" Dean couldn't help the stab of hurt. "Classified?"

"Yes." Castiel said firmly. "Classified."

"Whatever," Dean looked at the television screen as one of the families finally won. He tensed at the hand that came to rest on his left shoulder but didn't stop it as it slid over the back of his neck and touched his opposite shoulder. He went willingly as that arm connected to that hand pulled him closer, and let himself fall against Castiel's side.

"I missed you," Castiel whispered, pressing his lips to the top of Dean's head. He rubbed his hand over Dean's right arm, warming his flesh underneath his shirt.

"Yeah... me too," he said slowly, rubbing his cheek against the right shoulder of Castiel's silky soft button up. He turned his head up, looking at the alpha's lips for a few seconds before lifting his gaze higher and looking the man in the eye.

"Dean..."

"Yeah?" Dean swallowed, eyes flickering between Castiel's eyes and his lips, his face warming. Castiel smiled, blinking a few times and leaning closer.

"May Benny and I stay here tonight?"

_What?_ "What? I mean-" Dean licked his lips. "Sure, I guess." Dean furrowed his brows. "Call him in though. It's probably raining." He listened closely and heard the soft splatters of rain on the glass windows.

"One second," Castiel stood and brushed his thumb against Dean's cheek before turning and leaving the room. Dean sighed and sat straight, looking up at the ceiling. He heard the front door open and close and waited, staring at the ceiling blankly. So close. They'd been so close to kissing, but of course, it didn't happen.

The front door opened again and Dean sighed, lifting his head and staring at the television. He heard Benny and Castiel murmuring to each other but couldn't make out the words they said. They stopped speaking as they came into the room, both staring at Dean from what he could tell from the side of his eye. "I'm going to shower," Dean said, standing up. "Tell me when the pizza gets here."

Castiel nodded as he walked out of the room. Dean skipped up the steps and walked into his bedroom, closing the door quietly. He rubbed his eyes and walked into his bathroom, stripping his clothes and tossing them in the hamper. He had to do laundry soon, it was getting full. Dean stepped into the shower and quickly scrubbed down, washing his body until it was red and his hair until it hurt. He stood there for a good two minutes after that, enjoying the steaming water pounding down on his body.

Dean turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, finding a towel and drying quickly before wiping up the mess on the floor. He stepped into his room, shivering at the cold air and pulled on a pair of boxers, following it with plaid pajama pants. He went to grab a shirt and froze as an arm wrapped around his neck and squeezed, pulling him straight up.

"What th-" he tried to say, grabbing the arm and struggling. He kicked his foot backwards and elbowed the person in the ribs, choking as the arm tightened.

"Sorry, cher," Benny drawled, sticking something into his neck. Dean struggled for a few seconds longer before he felt his body stop responding and his mind haze. Benny let go of him and he fell to the floor with a thud, facing the doorway where Castiel leaned against the frame. The last thing he saw was Casting walking towards him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked that. Comments and kudos are welcomed and appreciated.


	4. Ash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'ello~
> 
> Unbetaed, unread, forgive me and enjoy~ <3

Dean groaned, head pounding, and blinked his eyes open, wincing at the sharp light that greeted him. He squinted for a moment, coughing and looking around with blurry eyes. He tugged at his arms, finding them bound to the chair he sat on. A quick test of his legs revealed them to be tied too. He let his eyes adjust before taking in the room. It was large and pure white, padded all around, with long fluorescent lights above and a speaker system installed into the walls. He tried to wiggle his wrists out of the tight rope. No use. It wasn't super tight that his hands were numb but it was secure. Unless he dislocated his thumb, he was stuck.

"Glad you're finally awake," Benny drawled, sounding amused. Dean squinted and glared at the man that perched on a table a few feet in front of Dean. He held up a radio and spoke into it, "He's up. Let's finish this."

"Finish this?" Dean muttered, dryly licking his lips. The door opened, and the lights dimmed to something manageable, Castiel stepping into the room with two muscled Russians, dragging in a long-haired man. Ash. They had Ash. Fuck, why did they have Ash? Dean watched as the men tossed Ash carelessly onto the floor, his body slamming against the wall before sliding down. He was awake, but drugged and dazed; he looked as confused as Dean felt.

Castiel smiled and sat on the table beside Benny, nodding at the two Russian men when they turned to look at him. They tilted their heads in a sort of bow and walked out of the room, locks audibly clicking into place. Ash let out a sharp laugh, and they all turned to look at him, finding a snarl on his face. "I knew it," he said, staring directly at Benny. "I fuckin' knew it."

"Ya, ya," Benny rolled his eyes and stood, setting his radio on the table. He reached behind himself and removed a gun from his waistband, checking it before walking over to Dean. He stared at him for a moment then held the gun up, pressing the barrel against his forehead. Dean didn't blink.

"Gonna kill me, Benny?" he asked with a sly grin.

"Nah, brother," Benny replied, cocking the gun. "I'm just going to shoot you." He lowered the gun to Dean's left shoulder and pulled the trigger.

Dean ground his teeth together, grunting loudly, ears ringing. The force of the shot knocked him back, his chair falling and slamming into the ground on top of his bound hands. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he rasped.  _Fuck it_ , he forcefully dislocated his left thumb, gritting his teeth against the added pain, feeling dizzy as his hand barely slipped from the rope. He shakily pulled his arms out from under the chair, groaning in pain as he grabbed his bleeding shoulder.

"Need some help there, chief?" Benny asked teasingly, reaching down with his free hand and grabbing the front of Dean's shirt, yanking him up and righting the legs of the chair. He let go of him and removed a knife from the sheath attached to his belt, setting it on Dean's thighs.

"You fucking piece of shit," Dean snapped, letting go of his shoulder and grabbing the knife. He groaned as he leaned forward, slicing through the rope binding his legs. Dean sat up and looked at where Benny stood in front of Ash, the end of the barrel pressing up against Ash's throat. "Don't kill him," he muttered, standing shakily. His eyes blurred for a second, the pain in his head increasing, and he felt nauseous.

"He knows, Dean, he has to go." Dean turned angry eyes to Castiel, who returned his look with a calm one. "You might want to put pressure on that," he gestured his hand to Dean's shoulder.

"Why did he even shoot me?" Dean sneered, dropping the knife onto the chair and pressing his shoulder with a wince. He wasn't worried about Benny turning the gun on him again, or Castiel. They shot to kill and if they didn't kill him with the first bullet then they didn't want him dead. 

"Late last night, two Federal agents were taken hostage by rogue Mexican cartel members. The country-wide search for Special Agent Dean Winchester and Computer Analyst Ash Montgomery has come to an end. Both men found. Winchester was injured when he valiantly took a bullet for Montgomery, doing all he could to protect his coworker, and further, his friend. Both men were rushed to the hospital with critical injuries; Montgomery announced dead upon arrival. Further investigations will be made," Castiel said, sounding like a professional newsman. He smiled darkly, eyes twinkling. "Does that sound right? I think it does."

"Could use a little tweaking," Dean swallowed, glancing at Ash and finding an angry expression, one aimed at all three of them. Fuck.

"Yes, yes," Castiel nodded. "It'll be great after that though."

"You know them, Dean?" Ash muttered, disgust evident not only on his face, but in his scent. Dean swallowed dryly, lowering his eyes to Ash's neck where the gun pressed against his bobbing throat. "Goddammit."

"Cas," Benny said, not turning away from Ash. Castiel sighed and stood, hands clasping behind his back as he began to pace several feet behind Benny. "Me or..?"

Castiel made a thoughtful noise, stopping with his foot in the air. He let out a laugh and spun towards Benny. "Good thinking, my friend," Castiel said enthusiastically. "Get away from him, get away from him," he said it twice with his excitement barely contained. Benny let go of Ash and stepped back, lowering the gun to his side, finger parallel to the trigger. "Dean, come here."

"No," he said forcefully, looking away as Castiel's excitement dimmed at his response and the man turned to him with sharp eyes. "I know what you want and I'm not doing it."

"Did I say you had a choice?" Castiel moved one step closer to him, his scent filling with spikes of disapproval. Dean winced inwardly, heart pattering wildly in his chest. That hurt; it hurt so bad. He hated it when Castiel was disappointed, hated it even more when that disappointment was directed at him. " _Come here._ "

" _Fuck_. Dammit. _No_ , Cas," Dean snapped, refusing to look his way, hands trembling, shoulder leaking blood and pulsing painfully with each beat of his hammering heart. He was breathing shakily, chest jerking with ragged inhales. "No," he whispered, the word almost sounding like a whimper.

A gunshot rang out in the room.

Dean's head snapped towards Ash, a mix of horror and despair evident in his body language and scent and expression. Castiel held a Desert Eagle in hand, a barely there wisp of smoke coming out the tip of the barrel. Ash lay in a crumpled pile on the floor, a thick and deep red streak of blood above his body on the wall from where he had slammed into it and slid down. Castiel wasn't looking at Ash, staring at Dean with empty eyes, but he had gotten the shot right between Ash's eyes, on the bridge of his nose.

"Take him home, Benny," Castiel said, lowering his arm and tucking the gun into the front of his pants. "And have someone clean up in here." Castiel turned on his heel and walked to the door, locks clicking as it unlocked before he even moved two feet towards it, it opened seconds later so he could stroll out without breaking pace. Castiel appeared in the doorway again, looking angry. "If you ever disobey me again, Dean," he said it loudly and clearly, the men outside the room stopping to listen; all eager to hear what he had to say to Dean. "I will not hesitate to put a bullet in your head."

Castiel raised a brow, waiting, silent and intimidating even from this distance. Dean swallowed thickly, lips trembling as he licked them with a thick tongue. "Yes, sir," he said, voice cracking slightly. His eyes burned with unshed tears, gaze blurring slightly, as Castiel nodded, lips turning up into a mocking smile for barely a second before once more smoothing out into a blank expression. The alpha spun on his heels again and walked away, disappearing around a corner.

"Let's go, Dean," Benny said softly, already walking towards the door. Dean felt his knees shake, and somehow couldn't bring himself to support his body anymore. He dropped to his knees, barely feeling the pain in his knees, or his shoulder and hand for that matter, as he mentally replayed Castiel's threat. It wasn't something new. He'd done it countless times before but he'd never sneered at him, never like that. He'd never made him feel so small with just a flash of his eyes, his anger.

Dean wholeheartedly understood why everyone in the Losev Bratva feared Castiel more than even Mikhail or Lucifer. He understood but he'd never felt that fear; not until today. That distinct tingle racing up his spine, his skin breaking out into goosebumps, hairs standing on end as Castiel stared at him with a mix of disappointment, anger and disgust and promised to kill him if he didn't obey. Castiel had always treated him like he was fragile and sacred, like he was an angel worth worshiping, like he meant something.

Today, he showed him that he could be treated like nothing. Like he was nothing. He is nothing.

Dean felt himself being yanked to his feet and pulled along, but barely remembered moving his feet to follow. He knew it was Benny, he could smell him, but he didn't care about anything beyond that. The next thing he knew, something was digging into his shoulder, hot and painful, sewing the torn skin together. Dean felt his stomach turn, hand blindly accepting a bottle of whisky, pressing the tip to his lips and tilting his head back, swallowing down a good few mouthfuls.

God, it tasted like shit.

Probably Jack.

Dean felt his arm being wrapped and turned his head, staring down at his shoulder with dazed eyes, watching the white cover up a taped bandage and secure it in place. He saw Benny's thick, rough fingers tie it once it was secure enough. Those same hands moved down to his left hand, turning it carefully, inspecting the dislocated thumb. Dean watched him take hold if the end, grasping just below his wrist firmly.

"Breathe," Benny said, hands moving quick as he snapped Dean's thumb back into place. Dean's lips parted in a silent scream, the pain worse than the stitching in his shoulder, his mind crashing back to reality with the pain. He tried to breath but found himself unable to. Benny forced him to bend forward, pressing against the chest lightly. "Exhale, Dean." He didn't remember how.

Wait.

He did.

Dean felt his body tremble as he exhaled stale air, body sore and throbbing. He hastily inhaled more, panting loudly in the... in his downstairs washroom? Dean looked down at where he sat on the counter, confused. Benny didn't offer an explanation, not that he really needed one to know that he'd blacked out in the time it took to drive from where ever he had been to his house.

Benny forced several pills into his mouth, handing him a glass of water and making him drink them, uncaring as Dean choked and struggled to. They went down roughly, feeling heavy in his belly. "You'll feel better in the mornin'," Benny said, taking the empty glass and setting it on the messy counter. "Come on, cher."

Dean let himself be pulled off the counter and pulled out of the washroom, up his staircase and to his bedroom. Benny tucked him into bed, careful of the shoulder he'd shot. "Benny," God he sounded awful.

"Just rest, cher," Benny patted his sweaty hair. "Everything will be fine." He said something else too, but Dean ignored him in favor of focusing on the hand in his hair, rubbing his scalp and soothing his mind. He fell asleep easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked that. Comments and kudos are welcomed and appreciated.


	5. Question Mark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi
> 
> Unbetaed, unread, forgive me and enjoy~ <3

Dean woke up late the next day. He grunted and shifted, a sharp noise escaping his mouth as his body pulsed. His shoulder ached dully, reminding him of the gunshot he'd received yesterday. He cleared his throat and struggled to sit up. Dean squeezed his eyes shut then looked around, squinting at his alarm clock. The blue light glowed back at him, telling him it was just past eleven in the morning. Dammit.

He looked down at his right arm, finding two needles stuck into it. One in his hand and one in the crease of his elbow. The one in his hand led to a bag of sodium chloride solution that lay on his nightstand next to a half-empty bag of dark red blood that connected to the needle in the crease of his elbow. He reached forward, closing the drips and then carefully removed the needles from his arm, knowing that if he yanked it out like an idiot he could damage his body.

Dean let the needles fall to the floor and stood shakily, swaying for a moment before straightening. He looked around but didn't find anything out of order. His shoulder was pulsing with the new position and he didn't know if he was in pain, he felt so numb. His thumb had a dull ache to it as well, reminding him of his genius idea to dislocate it the day before. His phone buzzed on the nightstand, sitting innocently beside the bag of saline. He picked it up and stumbled slowly to the bathroom, pushing the door open and turning the light on. He leaned against the counter, reading the multiple texts and missed calls from the members of his team.

They'd found Ash's body strung up in a warehouse outside of town. Cause of death, gunshot wound to the head. No pre-mortem damage besides some bruises suspected from rough handling. Postmortem damage was severe, however. Jo had sent him a hastily snapped picture of Ash's body, revealing a multitude of rage-filled hits and slices.

So much for the Mexican Cartel bullshit.

He scrolled past the messages from Benny, telling him that he told everyone that Dean was running a personal errand and wouldn't be back until tomorrow. The last message from Benny was a picture, a close up of Ash's body, the upper left side of his chest. There was a brand on his skin, deep. It was large but simple. A question mark. An offering.

Castiel hadn't hurt Ash after killing him. He wouldn't do that, especially in such a sloppy fashion. It was a waste of time, Castiel would say, he was already dead.

Whoever did the postmortem damage to Ash knew who they were, and they wanted to start a game.

* * *

The last few weeks had passed in a blur of boring paperwork and mellow sadness about Ash that Dean was grateful for because it allowed him time for his shoulder to heal. His team was in a sour mood over the these last few weeks, all of them unable to get any leads on Ash. He avoided everyone on his team, especially Benny, knowing someone would notice the suspicious way he held his left arm close to his body.

Dean didn't attend Ash's funeral, one that was held nearly three weeks after he died; just like he hadn't attended Gordon's. He didn't think he could handle watching his fellow teammate, and friend, be buried six feet under. Gone. Just gone.

No one questioned or tried to talk to him, all too busy, and just went on with their days and let him be. The only contact Dean had had with any members of his team, that was longer than two minutes, was a month and a half later. Benny showed up at his house and did a five minute check on how Dean was caring for his hand and shoulder before disappearing back out Dean's front door without a word about, well, anything.

Now, two months later, Dean rubbed his eyes, slumped in his chair in the briefing room waiting on Bobby to get here so they could start. He was feeling much better. His shoulder had healed most of the way and it was easy enough to move around. Benny plopped down in a chair beside him, flashing him a grin and pulling his phone out. Dean smiled at Jo and Garth, looking down at his lap when they returned the small smile.

Benny cleared his throat, and Dean glanced at him, lowering his eyes to his phone. It was turned towards Dean, showing a thin line of text.  _'Phase 3 and 4. Starting.'_ Phase 1 had been Dean's infiltration into a higher branch of jurisdiction, phase 2 had come months later with Benny's arrival to their team. Phase 3 was Castiel's involvement. Dean had no idea who, or maybe what, phase 4 was. He locked eyes with Benny, frowning in confusion. Benny leaned closer to whisper to him, but was interrupted as Bobby and Victor entered with two people.

Charlie. Charlie was phase 4.

"We have two new members joining our team," Victor said, gesturing to the new arrivals. "This here is Charlie Bradbury," he nodded at the redheaded female. She gave them a big grin and held up the Vulcan salute sign. "She's our new computer analyst." She looked like she wanted to say something but was cut off as Bobby spoke.

"And this is James Novak," he said, pointing at Castiel who stood timidly behind Charlie. "He's a CIA agent. We're collaborating for the moment with them due to Ash's passing."

"What the hell?" Jo snapped angrily, sitting forward. "What does the CIA have to do with Ash?"

"Harvelle," Bobby said sternly, eyes sharp but not glaring. "You will be respectful to Novak. His involvement is classified and frankly, none of your business."

"He's going to be on our team so yeah, I think it's my business," Jo said, standing and crossing her arms.

"Jo," Dean stood as well, placing a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged him off, glaring.

"He was our team member. We're going to be the ones looking for him-"

"Enough, Harvelle," Victor interrupted. "Out. Fitzgerald, I need you to leave as well."

"What?" Garth stood, confused.

"Only Winchester, Bradbury, Lafitte, Singer and Novak are going to be privy to the details of this case." Jo huffed and glared at them all before turning and walking out of the room. Garth followed after her, Victor behind him. Victor muttered an apology and closed the blinds before shutting the door.

"I'm sorry about that," Bobby said once Victor left, nodding at Castiel and Charlie. "I won't be actively joining you on this case. I trust you can explain the details to Dean and Benny?"

"'Course!" Charlie grinned, setting down a heavy looking laptop bag on the briefing table. Castiel nodded and offered a smile to Bobby.

"Good," Bobby sighed and opened the door. "Good luck." He stepped outside and closed the door, his shout for Jo to join him in his office heard loud and clear through the door.

Castiel dropped whatever act he had on and stepped closer to the table. "There are no bugs in this room. I had a team do a sweep last night," he said, sitting down in one of the chairs. "Dean, you're going to pretend to know Charlie from one of your... what are they called?" He looked at Charlie, brows furrowed with confusion.

"LARP," she offered, pulling her laptop from the bag and lifting the screen up.

"Right. One of your LARP meets. Benny, you'll be friendly with me. Our story will be we met sometime two years ago and we recognized each other here."

Charlie typed hurriedly on the laptop, eyes slightly squinting behind her red glasses. "I've hacked into the database. The FBI have some really crappy firewalls," she snorted. "What am I looking for, Cas?"

"Find all the files with the codes 'S1J' and 'C7K,'" he said, sitting forward and looking at Charlie's screen. Dean glanced at Benny, who didn't seem to be feeling the confusion he did. He had probably been informed about this. Of course he had. He showed Dean a text saying the next 2 phases were in play.

Dean was kept out of the loop.

_Again._

"What's going on?" he finally asked, earning three looks and a pause in Charlie's typing. "No one told me about this." Charlie started typing again, looking guilty. "Why wasn't I told?"

Castiel sighed and looked at Benny, raising a brow. Benny muttered something Dean didn't catch and turned to him. "We need to get a move on this case. It's been going on for months. Castiel called me about a week ago and told me we need to move on with this or Mikhail would be placed in charge of this mission.  We have three months to solve the betrayal, find the double agents and the stalker-"

" _Benny_." Castiel warned immediately.

"Stalker?" Dean looked between a sheepish Benny and annoyed Castiel. "What stalker? We're being stalked? Dammit, just tell me everything!"

"No," Castiel blinked and turned back to Charlie's screen.

" _Castiel_ ," he growled, standing and leaning closer. "Can I  _please_ ," he strained the word. "Talk to you over there?" He jerked his thumb to the small side room that held a few boxes of files. Castiel didn't make a noise or move for a moment, then he stood and turned to Dean, nodding stiffly. Dean trailed behind him as Castiel walked to the room and stepped inside. Dean slammed the door shut and leaned against it. "Why are you being like this?"

"I'm not being like anything," Castiel said slowly, looking at the few boxes on the floor. "I'm just work-"

"Bullshit!" Dean clenched his hands and looked away as Castiel shot him a dark look at his outburst. "Are you still mad at me? For not shooting Ash?" Castiel didn't reply, but he did look away. "I'm sorry, okay? He was- he was someone I knew and a friend and-"

"A friend?" Castiel snorted. "Now you're friends with them?"

"Yeah, I am," Dean licked his lips. "They've been my only contact for  _months_ because you decided to take Benny away from me, and you decided to go on some stupid fucking- fucking...  _thing_!" He made a frustrated noise, rubbing his right eye with a sigh. "Why are you being like this, Cas? Why are you keeping me out of the loop? Why are you- why are you being so mean to me?" God, he sounded pathetic and whiny. Dean clenched his jaw. He shouldn't be weak.

"I came home from my mission early," Castiel said slowly. "Not because we managed to finish it before the estimated time but because Benny called me. He said someone had mailed me a letter with a large question mark on the back. Inside was another letter, regular sized thick beige envelope with a wax seal. The... uh, insi- insig..." He gave Dean a confused look.

"Insignia?"

"Yes, _insignia._  The insignia on the seal was... odd. All I know is it's part of some old stories."

"Old stories? Biblical old?" Dean frowned thoughtfully at Castiel's nod. "Sammy- Sam gave me some of his old school books. I know he took a religious class or something, there might be something in those books."

"You do that," Castiel cleared his throat, crouching down beside a box and flicking the lid up and off.

"That still doesn't explain why you never told me or why you're angry," Dean pressed his head against the wood.

Castiel stood and walked around the boxes, frowning. He stepped closer to Dean, hesitating with each step that brought him to stand closer to him. "The letter said  _one_ of the double agents was... was you."

"Oh..."

"Oh." Castiel stepped closer. "I never wanted to doubt you. Truly. But I had to investigate, and I did so."

"You didn't trust me, huh?" Dean smiled blankly, turning his head to the side as Castiel stepped even closer, toe to toe with him.

"That's not it," Castiel placed his forearms on the door, leaning closer and bumping his nose against Dean's cheek, closer to his ear than his mouth. His voice dropped to a deep whisper, soft and shaky, "I trusted- trust you too much. And I wondered if you would hurt me. I was scared."

"You? Scared?" Dean huffed, turning to look back at Castiel. "I don't believe that."

"I was," he insisted. "The thought of losing you was not one I wanted to entertain. The thought of having to... kill you? I loathed it." Dean swallowed again, entirely too aware Castiel was very, very close. "You are my little omega. _Мой маленький волк._  I did not want to kill you."

"But you would, right?" Dean nodded to himself. "If you had to?"

Castiel dropped his head, his forehead hitting Dean's right shoulder. " _Я так очень жаль, моя сладкая._ " Castiel lifted his head and pressed his lips to Dean's cheeks, cupping the underneath of Dean's jaw, the left side and tilting his head down slightly. He pulled back and pressed his lips to Dean's forehead, lingering. " _Я знаю, ты никогда бы не предал меня. Ты мой друг, Дин. Мои-... Я л- доверять вам._ "

"Then stop pushing me away," Dean hesitantly placed his hands on Castiel's hips, feeling the man tense. He slid his arms around him and pulled him closer, ducking his head further and burying his face in Castiel's shoulder. "Just keep me in the loop. It's all I ask."

"Okay," Castiel's hand twitched nervously at his side, his body tense and ready to jump away. Castiel was always edgy when Dean got too close to him. He never liked being hugged or held in any kind of way. He'd once told Dean it was because he'd been betrayed a long time ago. He never gave any details, just said he had let his guard down and gotten stabbed in the stomach. Dean assumed that was where he got the two inch long, vertical and bumpy, wound - the one a little above his navel but below his long tattoo of runes and in the middle of the multiple tattooed crows.

Dean let go of him and saw him relax.

"We should get back," Castiel said softly.

"What is Charlie looking for?" Dean asked, watching Castiel step back to give him room.

"All the files with 'S1J' and 'C7K.'"

"And that means..?"

"'S1J' searches through missing persons files. Anyone with 'S1J' in their file code is flagged. 'C7K' does that same, except it delves into classified case files," Castiel explained, eyeing the door every few seconds.

"What are you looking for?"

"The files that get flagged?" Castiel tilted his head, brows furrowing slightly.

Dean barely held in an eye roll. "Anything specific?"

"At the moment, no," Castiel rocked on his heels. "Dean. Door," he finally muttered, looking a little irritated because Dean hadn't opened the door yet.

"Come over tonight," Dean gripped the door handle. "Please? We can talk about this more and-"

"Okay."

"-we ca- what? Really?" Dean bit his lip.

"Yes?" Castiel squinted.

"Oh. Uh. Great. Six is... good," Dean realized he sounded lame as he said this. He winced inwardly, watching Castiel nod and smile slightly.

"Okay."

"Okay," Dean hesitated a moment longer then opened the door and joined Charlie and Benny in the briefing room, Castiel following him to the table. Hopefully, he wouldn't be kept out of the loop anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
>  **-Мой маленький волк.:**  
>  My little wolf.  
>  **-Я так очень жаль, моя сладкая.:**  
>  I'm so very sorry, my sweet.  
>  **-Я знаю, ты никогда бы не предал меня. Ты мой друг, Дин. Мои-... Я л-... доверять вам.:**  
>  I know you would never betray me. You are my friend, Dean. My-... I l- trust you.
> 
> Pst, sorry if the translations are messy. I don't know much Russian (any, really, lmao) so I used Google Translate and we all know how good that is.
> 
> Hope you liked that. Comments and kudos are welcomed and appreciated.


End file.
